


when the sun goes down

by closingdoors



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Iron Man 1, all i know is write about tony + pepper discussing afghanistan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29476779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closingdoors/pseuds/closingdoors
Summary: "You're fired, Potts," he says.She smiles. "I think you'll struggle to find a replacement, given the circumstances."
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	when the sun goes down

And when I got into the accident  
The sight that flashed before me was your face  
But when I walked up to the podium, I think that I forgot to say your name

**Coney Island, Taylor Swift**

* * *

Three months in a cave has done something to his eyesight. Everything is sharper than he remembers. It's not the only one of his senses to have been affected: the smell of gas is heavy in the air, the sound of the plane engines too loud. 

Pepper Potts is waiting for him when the plane lands and her hair is redder than he remembers. 

She sounds just as she had when he had heard her call his name, each time his head had been plunged into ice water, his lungs begging for air and his vision popping with black spots. That, he had remembered properly. 

* * *

He emerges from his workshop and finds her in his house. And of course she is, because where else would she be? He knows her inside out; she has no life outside of him. He is selfishly happy for this, and immensely sad.

"You're fired, Potts," he says.

She smiles. "I think you'll struggle to find a replacement, given the circumstances."

"I don't want to replace you." He takes a seat beside her. "That's impossible. You're brilliant. Are you sure you don't want to quit?"

"Pretty sure. My bills don't pay themselves."

"I could pay them."

She raises her eyebrows.

"Not like that," he adds.

Pepper closes her laptop and settles it on the coffee table. She pulls her legs up on the sofa and orients herself towards him. Her heels are discarded on the floor and her hair is falling free around her shoulders. Is this domesticity? It doesn't feel grand, it just feels right.

"Have you thought about talking to someone about what happened?" She asks, staring him directly in the eye.

"I'm talking to you."

"That doesn't count."

"It does to me."

Her face pinches. He doesn't know this expression, and that worries him, because he thought he knew everything about her. Maybe there are unknowables, in the aftermath of Afghanistan. 

That feels odd - a fissure between them, a deep aching chasm. 

"Will you consider it? For me?" She adds this last bit on shyly.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," he replies, but they both know he won't.

* * *

He gets restless in the night. He wakes shivering amidst nightmares, no matter how many comforters he drags onto the mattress. He paces the house, he tries to drink himself back to sleep but the alcohol doesn't taste right on his tongue anymore; it'd left his system in Afghanistan, and it doesn't want it anymore.

Sometimes, there aren't nightmares, just the rhythm of breathing and the flash of Pepper's red hair. Those dreams had made sense in Afghanistan, because he had dreamed of Rhodey too, of Happy, of his mother, the only people who had ever tolerated him. But now she is all he can think about, and he doesn't know what to make of it.

It would be easy to go back to what he once was. To flush his cash down the drain in a club somewhere, drugs and alcohol mixing in his veins, a girl or maybe half a dozen brought back to the mansion with him. But he hesitates, every time, because of the arc reactor in his chest, the glowing blue that would surely turn anyone anyway, no matter the money and fame. And also, in some ways, he hesitates because of Pepper's small hands, how they had reached inside and helped him, how they had laughed together, how beautiful she had looked, and how distant, too.

* * *

After she helps free him of the suit, they sit together in the front room, the TV on mute and a pizza between them. His whole body aches and he wants to rest, but this time with her feels more important to him. 

"So this is what you're going to do now? Fly into active war zones and fight?"

"They have my weapons," he says, "they're killing civilians in my name."

She flinches. "That's not what you made them for. It's not your fault."

"I made the weapons in the first place. How many died before I found out about Obadiah? I have blood on my hands."

Pepper's quiet. They eat in silence. He tries not to wince when he moves. He needs to think of ways to add more cushioning. The armour can take a heavy hit, but he can't. He's only human. Not machine. Not entirely.

"I dreamt of you in Afghanistan," he hears himself say.

Pepper startles. They simply look at each other for a moment. He doesn't know what he wants her to say in return. Did she dream of him, too, despite the thousands of miles between them, the uncertainty as to whether he was alive or dead? The answer terrifies him.

"I heard you," he continues, because now he can't stop. "I heard you calling for me."

"God, Tony," she says, more exhale than words.

She rests her elbows on her knees and puts her head in her hands. Her shoulders shake and he realises she's crying. Pepper's never done that in front of him before. She's always been put-together, not a hair out of place. A martyr.

He shuffles closer to her and lays an arm across her shoulders. She turns into him, wetting the skin of his neck with her tears, one hand coming up to rest over the arc reactor. She cries silently, just a few jagged breaths here and there. The taste of iron fills his mouth. 

"Sorry," she mumbles, voice still thick.

He doesn't say anything. She lifts her head and meets his eyes. Hers are puffy and red, her cheeks lined with tears. She closes her eyes and leans into him.

Her lips are just a whisper, and then they are firm, and his arms are full of her, and then she is gone. She is on the other side of the room, her hands pressed to her lips, staring at him with wide eyes.

"It's okay," he says, and tries to smile. "I won't tell if you don't."

"I don't..." 

"I know. It's okay."

She's still staring at him with wide eyes. He feels a splintering in his chest. Of course she doesn't feel anything for him. Things are just hard right now, lines all smudged with blood and war and torture. He doesn't even know what he wants with her, other than for her to stay, always.

"You really dreamt of me?" She asks.

"Every night. Some days, too, when the work was monotonous."

"What was I doing?"

"You were just there," he said, remembering the cold of the cave, the metal he was shaping with his hands, how behind the closed lids of every blink there she was, smiling, and brilliant. 

"I'm gonna go," she says shakily.

He watches her go, something splintering in his chest.

* * *

After Obadiah, after she presses the button, after everything fades except for the sound of her voice, he wakes in a hospital room with his hand in hers.

He studies her face and she studies his in return. 

"You're okay?" He asks.

She laughs, and tears spill down her cheeks. "I'm okay. God, Tony, I could've killed you."

"Would've been worth it."

"No," she says fiercely, gripping his hand tighter, "nothing would be worth that."

His mouth opens to argue, but she stands, brushing some of his hair back so that she can press a kiss to his forehead. She lingers, her hand in his hair, her lips on his skin. He closes his eyes. It's exquisite. It burns. He's in love with her, he realises.

The revelation is quiet. She pulls away and smiles.

"Rhodey's outside. He's been waiting for you to wake up," she says, and breaks the spell.

"Send him in. Might as well be told off sooner rather than later."

She shoots him a look. "He was worried. He cares about you."

"And you?"

"Tony," she says, voice breaking. 

He pushes himself to sit. She fusses, hovering like he's going to break. She makes sure his pillows support him and he can smell her, this close to him, part sweat and part raspberries, like the shampoo she uses.

"Send him in."

She gets as far as the door before she looks back. 

"I was worried, too," she says quietly. He realises her eyes are red. "Don't do that to me again."

"I'll try," he replies, half-promise, half-lie.

She smiles wryly. "I guess that's the best I can ask for."

* * *

"I should kill you myself."

She follows him to the car Happy has brought round for them, her heels clicking against the floor. Her hair sways when she walks, the sunlight bouncing off of it. She's beautiful. 

"I wouldn't recommend it. Didn't you hear? I'm Iron Man."

She growls as she clambers into the back of the car. He hasn't even managed to get his seat belt on before she launches into her rant.

"And didn't we agree on what you were going to say? Why would paint a target on your back like that? The suit is brilliant, Tony, but that's all it is. A _suit._ You are - you're - " she grabs his wrist, her other hand going to the arc reactor. She's breathing heavily now. "You're flesh and bone. You're vulnerable."

They stare at each other. Her skin gets flushed when she's angry. He smiles.

"I have an idea. A portable suit, like a briefcase, that can only be opened by me. That'll solve the problem." 

"God, you're impossible," she says, letting go of him.

"I meant it. What I said, before the press conference."

"You don't want a girlfriend, Tony," she says, rolling her eyes.

"No, I don't." 

He wants far more.

Pepper looks away, at the landscape rushing past the window. He stares at the delicate curve of her neck, the freckles that adorn her skin. They could make each other happy, if they tried, he knows that. If fear didn't fill the space between them.

Slowly, he inches his hand across, until it's covering hers, placed on the seat between them. She turns her attention to their linked fingers and he watches her swallow heavily.

"I missed you," he tells her honestly.

Her hand flips beneath his so their palms meet. Her hands are small and soft, compared to his own.

"I missed you, too."

She looks up. They smile at each other, and don't let go.


End file.
